


Tender

by piginapoketuesday



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Empath!Will, Gentle Torture, Hypersensitivity, Kissing, M/M, Overstimulation, Sex, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 15:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5671099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginapoketuesday/pseuds/piginapoketuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is hypersensitive to Hannibal's touch. They explore the boundaries between pain and pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first touch is feather-light but aches like pressure on a bruise.

Will knows how sensitivity feels, having spent his whole life as an exposed nerve. This, however, is torture.

“Am I hurting you?” Hannibal asks.

Will swallows. “Yes, but I don’t know why.”

Hannibal reaches out a hand and strokes his thumb over Will’s throat. It feels to the professor as if he is being bled.

“Don’t,” he says, and it sounds close enough to begging that Hannibal backs off immediately.

“Your body can’t bear my touch. Or perhaps it’s your mind.”

Will rubs at the lingering tenderness in his neck. “I want you to touch me.”

Hannibal looks at his partner, at the scars and flesh and sweet spots waiting to be suckled. He leans in and slowly pulls a careful kiss over Will’s lips, earning a quiet whimper. When Will doesn’t flinch away, he lets his mouth press softly down every few centimeters, trailing from corner of mouth to chin. Will is trembling, and he wants to hold him, but this touch is all he can stand.

“Don’t stop,” Will says, breath stolen by the arrival of lips at his neck. Pain is at the center of his mind, but it is intimate pain, and he is afraid of how flushed and warm he is.

Hannibal continues down his lover’s neck, savoring the anxious heartbeat. Once, he lets his tongue taste the underside of Will’s Adam’s apple and receives a gasp. His suit trousers are constraining, and he busies himself kissing invisible bruises onto Will’s throat, in order to avoid demanding too much of that hot mouth.

Desperate groans fill the room, and Will risks running his hand up the leg of Hannibal’s pants. Electricity violates both men, drawing them closer, pulled in and hovering skin over skin.

Forgetting himself, Hannibal drags a careless hand through his lover’s curls, and Will cries out, his scalp suddenly burning.

Hannibal growls, taken by the power, and nibbles cruelly on Will’s collarbone.

The tortured moan in response pulls him back to reality. “Will, breathe. Breathe. I’ll be gentle.”

Panting, Will runs his thumb over Hannibal’s open mouth. It is yet another jolt of violent energy between them. “Don’t be.”

Hannibal licks his bottom lip and grips Will's chin. "Open your mouth."

He obeys, and his whine of pain is lost on Hannibal's tongue. It hurts, his every nerve flinching from the older man's wandering touch. His eyes water and he wants to push Hannibal away and recover, but the. coiled heat between his legs wants more.

Hannibal can feel his lover drowning in the ache. He knows this is dangerous, that Will's heart is beating too quickly, that his breath is shallow, and he is in no condition to accept even the brush of fingers over his bare chest. But torture is what he knows. How intoxicating to find this man leaning in to every bruising touch, needy and exposed. Even so, this feels like honest tenderness to Hannibal. How long before Will can curl up against him, without this immense sensitivity?

"Hannibal."

Neither of them are sure if it is a plea for more or less. Reluctantly, Hannibal pulls away, testing the water.

Will feels instantly naked and cold, though his body relaxes in the absence of hurt. "Of all the ways you've torn into me, this is the least cruel." He moves forward, knees parting Hannibal's thighs, head bent to nuzzle the thick hair on his chest. He allows himself one nipple to suck, lips like glass over a fire, changed by extremes.

Hannibal tips his head back, lust warming the hollow of his throat. He eyes the shameless curve between Will's thighs and wonders what impure sounds he could draw from the man's pretty mouth with just one stroke. "Will," he breathes, swallowing lewdly, "Be cruel."


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm not cruel," Will whispers, reaching between his legs to grope himself and relieve some of the ache.

Hannibal stops his hand. "May I touch you?"

Will nods demurely and guides Hannibal's hand to the swell of his boxers. The first press of fingertips against his head have him holding back a scream. "Please," he begs, opening his thighs for the curious hand, hardening for the torture.

"Intimate pain," Hannibal muses, stroking lightly over the bulging fabric. "I would take you in my mouth to hear your exquisite agony, Will. Vulnerable and twitching on my tongue."

Even those words have Will whimpering. He tries to touch Hannibal's shoulder but can barely maintain contact, what with the acute sensations between his legs.

"Let me take care of you," Hannibal says. He moves forward and palms along Will's length, breathing slow and warm against his chest but never leaning on him. "You and I went so long without ever touching."

"Hannibal," Will moans as his boxers are pulled down the curve of his ass and over his swollen cock. Lewdly exposed, he makes nervous eye contact with his partner. "Hurt me."

Something in Will's voice is too confident of this demand. He's sure it will be easy for Hannibal to ratchet his pain up to eleven, and while he's not wrong, the sentiment strikes an uncomfortable chord with the older man. Hannibal sits upright and cradles Will's cheek, brushing fingers over his ear. "I love you, Will Graham."

Will's face holds the memory of shattering. Then their lips meet, and he can feel the wet burn of tears spilling over his eyelashes. The kiss is soft, and when it ends, Will rests his head gingerly on Hannibal's shoulder. "Touch me," he pleads.

Hannibal holds the back of Will's head, keeping him close, as he completes the first tentative stroke of his bare cock. The gasping whine that leaves Will's mouth makes him shiver. "So sensitive, Will," he says, applying a bit more pressure and earning another choked sound. "Beautiful."

Low, desperate groans fill his throat as he struggles not to burst from this attention. The pain has him flushed on every conceivable inch of flesh, and he can hear his own shaky breathing against the crook of Hannibal's neck.

"Will, there's no need to hold off. This will become more bearable over time. Let me see you unravel." He presses his thumb beneath the warm head of Will's cock and begins to massage.

Will writhes in Hannibal's arms. "Please, please!" He thrusts into the touch and flinches away from it, having never felt anything so powerful in his life.

"You're safe, Will. Let it become only pleasure." Hannibal briefly considers edging his lover, but he thinks better of it. Will trusts him with his own suffering. Extending that is beyond the realm of his compassion for this man.

Just one careful press against his slit has Will spurting into Hannibal's hand, crying out and clutching the older man for support. He feels all touch leave his cock, mercifully, as even the cool air in the room is difficult to stand.

Hannibal knows that Will is more sensitive now than before, but he can't stop himself from stealing a hungry, fervent kiss. Moans vibrate against his tongue, and he feels enormously tender himself.

Returning the kiss with every ounce of his resolve, Will melts against Hannibal's body.

"Do you love me, Will?" Hannibal asks, breathless.

Hazily, Will whispers, "More than I can bear."


End file.
